


Blackstone

by poisonandwine



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, D&D, DAO, Don't copy to another site, Don't repost, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, Dungeons & Dragons References, dnd, earthspur mountains, Уточнять у автора
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonandwine/pseuds/poisonandwine
Summary: [Based on a campaign.] Mela Ludwakazar was an unconventional genasi—half-dwarf, half-genie. Though short and stout in stature, she was determined and protective of those she considers of her clan.





	Blackstone

**Author's Note:**

> The main thing I can say for this is I'm not taking this all too seriously in terms of how it "fits" into the D&D world. So references to canonical content is loosely tethered. This will also splinter or weave into the current campaign I'm playing with Mela. So, with the permission of my fellow players, you may meet some cool characters in the future. For now, enjoy Mela's little story. (Oh, and the Dwarvish I used is probably not 100%, but it was a cool translator I found on lingojam, so [shrug emoji].)

It stood tall and wide before Mela, a strange beacon of something nearly otherworldly, but she didn’t know that yet. This gargantuan mass looked like a wall of blackstone, and it was tucked away in the same caves she had gotten lost in before. She didn’t know how she could have missed it before. 

Mela’s small, rough, hand reached out, and the wall reacted to her. It was as if the blackstone could bend its matter to liquid when met with the touch of a being. 

A sharp, sudden voice snapped the girl back to reality: “Mela! Fa tilbakke herhir!” (_Get back here!_) 

Little Mela turned on her heel and sprinted for the closest route out of the cavern and towards the voice of her mother, Regna, calling for her. Her mother sounded concerned, and Mela knew it was her fault. She couldn’t help herself; she was a curious child. While her father, Theran, was more encouraging of her sometimes disobedient behavior, Mela often found herself on the receiving end of one or more deserved-scolds from her mother. 

The young girl rounded a corner, nearly careening into a familiar dwarven body. She looked up and saw her mother standing there. Regna wasn’t unlike the rest of the Ludwakazar clan: her skin was fair; her hair was a light brown, that looked coal black within the dim cave’s walls; her eyes were hazel. Regna was never without dirt smudges on her dress or face, but Mela thought she was beautiful. To Mela, her mother was the most beautiful person—dwarf or otherwise—that she had ever seen, even when she let her stubble show.

Those bright green eyes of her mother looked down on Mela from behind a furrowed brow. “I’ve fortalt duag han kom wandering avpag detten langt niden de caves uten supervision, Mela,” Regna said. (_ I’ve told you about wandering off this far in the caves without supervision, Mela. _) Her mother rarely spoke Common. Her scolding fell in guttural words of their language. “What are you doing back here? You could get hurt.” She held her daughter’s dark cheeks in her pale hands. “What if the mines collapsed, and I couldn’t get to you?” 

“Furag villeg!” Mela chirped, smiling between her mother’s rough hands. (_Father would!_)

Regna sighed and shook her head. The little halfling always took for granted that her father was dao. Theran, her father, took over the Earthspur Mountains decades ago, and he had been such a presence among the Ludwakazar clan that Regna could barely remember life without him. Theran had dark, red skin like Mela, he was broad and much larger than any dwarf—any man, even. His eyes were lavender like Mela’s, but his eyes glowed like shining gems no matter the light. His long hair flowed behind him like fire in hues of lavender and pink. Theran’s shoulders and arms were strong and thick, one arm nearly the size of Regna. Where legs might be, smoke and glittering dust billowed out from under his thick, leather cloak. He commanded the mines of Earthspur with a sense of comfortability and amusement. 

Regna ushered Mela out of the caves, and she sprinted towards the other children chasing one another in the rocky terrain of the cliff hanging over a rolling valley below. Next to the other children, Mela stood out like a glittering gem. Dark, red skin and lavender eyes aside, her skin was calloused—like rough stone—with crystalline protrusions fracturing the plane of her flesh, sticking out one or two inches each. They were pink and translucent like rose quartz, and on the sunniest of days, she sparkled. Without her mother's beard, but the same short and strong-but-stout stature, Mela was a beautiful mixture of the Ludwakazar clan and her dao father. Her hair grew in shades of rosy strands that appeared rose gold in the sunlight. 

The parents’ backs were turned to the children, conversing over their latest finds in the mines and the rumors of a nearby clan being hunted by drakes—gossip until they saw proof. The children chased Mela and Mela chased them back. Her little hands reached out to each of them as they pretended to be giants and trolls, and the rocks beneath their feet lifted into the air. The children all fell to the floor and laughed as Mela made the rocks spin in the air, dust kicking around them. 

Regna looked up from her conversation and a look of concern painted her face. “Mela!” she called out. “Be careful, please!” 

Her Dwarvish pleas caught the attention of the other parents who were now inching closer to their children to pull them away from the potential hazard. Mela looked towards her mother and pouted. She sent the rocks flying off the cliff. The children stopped giggling and jeered at their parents for ruining their fun. 

By the age of 3, Mela was showing signs of earthly magic, like Theran. She often played with the dirt and sand of the caverns in Earthspur, lifting and crashing the grains and rubble against the wall without ever having to get her hands dirty. (Though she loved to get her hands dirty.) This pleased Theran, but he often remarked he'd be more impressed once she could plane shift, much to the chagrin of Regna.

The three weren’t the conventional family. They weren’t living in the same household and living for each other. Theran, though encouraging of Mela’s behaviors that reminded him of his own, was distant and focused primarily on his greed. Regna was the nurturer and protector of their small two-person home. 

When Theran first arrived at Earthspur, the dwarven clan was unsettled by his presence and unwilling to let him take over the mines they had worked so hard to maintain for centuries. True to his dao nature, he was unrelenting in his determination to impose his dominion over the mines and collect the treasures within for himself. Overtime, he became accepted by the dwarves for his willingness to protect them and fight alongside them when conflicts arose with other clans or races. Rare as that may have been, the Ludwakazar clan eventually took to their work with some pride, feeling as though they were profiting for a competent leader. (It wasn’t as if they had a choice, anyway.)

Regna and Theran’s union was built around their mutual fondness of bloodstones—a rarity even within the Earthspur caverns—and the two eventually brought Mela into the world. 

The clan received Mela in different ways. Most just regarded her as another child, somewhat blasé in their approach of her birth; some ridiculed Regna for joining with Theran and creating such a strange halfling; some children, though not all, found her appearance odd and off-putting. It was her parents who reaffirmed in her that she was something special. 

Mela didn't fall for the allure of the bloodstones like her parents, but she loved wandering off into the Earthwood in search of gemstones. Regna would shake her head and sigh each afternoon when Mela's pockets hung low and full, wrists covered in mud. It wasn’t often Mela wandered too deep into the caverns without permission, but Theran and Regna knew to worry when enough time had passed in peace. 

As time went on, Mela’s dwindling appreciation for the mines, and her desire to be in Earthwood, caused Theran’s notice of her to fade. Regna was the ever-present parental figure who supported her daughter's passions, but she often fought with the dao about his negligence. After decades of arguing over his petulance, Regna gave up and chose to be as much to Mela as possible in both parental roles. 

Outside of the mines, the Ludwakazar clan were shield dwarves. It was customary that many worked within Theran’s mines but also trained as warriors to protect their mountainous home. Should the need for war arise—an unfortunate consequence of their world—every dwarf was expected to have some level of combat skill. Mela enjoyed the outlet training provided her, and Regna loved knowing the required sessions kept her daughter from wandering off throughout the day. With time, Mela took up arms with a handaxe—the blunt force aggression of both felt the most satisfactory in a scrimmage. 

It was never clear to Mela why her father chose to spend less time with her, focusing solely on mines and struggling miner conditions. She hoped one day to please her father enough to win back his affections again, but the bitterness that began to swell in her restricted her from visiting the mines for work at all. She took up temporary work as a guide through the nearby forests and mountains to lost visitors.

Thirty years into her life—still young for a half-dwarf—Mela heard the conditions of the mines were worsening, but hardly due to their stability. Theran had worn out his welcome with the clan, and his constant demands for _ several _ decades felt undeserved. There were fewer breaks, fewer days with sunlight, rationed foods. Mela watched her mother and the other Ludwakazar riot against Theran due to harsh working conditions and little reward. Many families were hardly able to survive without the work, and even then, supplies and trade were sparse. When Theran refused to provide better living conditions, or move his business to another region, the clan fought back. 

The dao may have been her father, but he hadn't been an attentive one in nearly 20 years. After seeing the way the mining operations were draining even her mother, Mela knew in order to save her clan she had to face the true enemy. Every trained shield dwarf in the clan took up arms against him. 

Striking metallic sounds of weapons pierced the air, as the dwarves struck against Theran’s every defense. From down below the mountain, creatures could hear an isolated war raging on, but none of them knew why. The cries of the Ludwakazar clan roared with empowerment and rage, shaking birds and small creatures from the nearby trees. 

Theran feigned a surrender just before his ground shifting spells nearly collapsed the cave in on himself and all of the clan. He was barely in a condition to fight or escape, but he was desperate. Theran passed through the walls and escaped, leaving the dwarves to meet their end. All but three survived the rush to the surface and began a hunt for Theran. 

Mela found him first, hiding away in a familiar part of the Earthwood she often visited when she was a child. Sweat fell from the quartz on her skin, her eyes glittering in the sunlight poking through the treetops above. 

“Min kregmin…” he said, reaching her through the Dwarvish he learned along the way. (_ My daughter… _) 

Theran wanted nothing more than to appeal to his daughter's kindness—a trait she received from her mother. Mela looked to him, choking back the urge to speak to him in her tongue. She stood as tall as she could, lifting her handaxe above her head. Filled with the betrayal of neglect, and the strong protective emotions she felt for her mother, she landed a direct hit to his head. The attack killed him instantly. 

A shift in the plane coursed through Mela's body, the handaxe vibrating through her arms. She released the handle and watched as it _ clanged _ to the forest floor, landing in a pile of crystalline dust. The crown shyness of the trees above let in a little light that caught the flaky faces of the ashes of her father. 

Rose gold, as if some sort of cruel reminder that they were always connected, always father and daughter.

The two shared so much: their elemental magic, their red skin, their affinity for crystals. Was it possible the beautiful rose quartz she so often collected and displayed from her body in natural abundance was also of his gifting? The dust sat on the ground, a breeze slowly picking it up and moving it around the floor. Mela grabbed a vial from her bag, just big enough for less than a millimeter of volume, and filled it with the rosy remains. She examined it closely in the vial, turning it around in her hands. 

Mela returned to her clan, carrying her father’s mace over her shoulder and holding tightly onto the vial. She locked eyes with some of the other armored dwarves and returned a solemn attempt at a smile. "Droger bortnar," she said plainly. (_ He is gone _.) She returned home and fell into Regna's arms. 

It took many years for Mela to forgive herself for killing her father—stubbornly oppressive as he was. It wasn't until she was in her 40s before she began to see herself for less of a killer and more as a soldier. She continued to wear the vial around her neck and wield both the mace and handaxe in battle, though she was lucky to say battle hadn't come quite so often—a benefit of mountainous seclusion. 

The one such war Ludwakazar found themselves in against a rogue group of mountain orcs ended with Mela permanently scarred across her left eye. Many dwarves fell during that fight, and Regna feared for the next time her daughter would be forced to take up arms against an even stronger foe. Mela traveled around hoping for perspective. She often returned to Earthspur, but overtime she felt less like a Ludwakazar, despite all her clan had given her. The constant feeling of being something "special" gnawed away at her.

Mela wasn’t alone when she faced a familiar blackstone obelisk in the heart of a cave two days away from Everpeak City. Some of her party were rifling through the loot on recently felled enemies, but her eyes were glued to the blackstone. It felt familiar, felt old. She remembered the Earthspur Mountains, she remembered the way the blackstone bended to her touch. She didn’t know why it was also here, but it at least was fitting. This kingdom seemed to almost have a kink for blackstone. 

Her companion, a young elf named Ari, stared just as deeply at the obelisk. She watched him closely—he was a peculiar rogue. As his hand reached out for the blackstone, she grabbed his wrist and held him back. 

“Don’t,” she whispered. 


End file.
